The rain did not stop. It did not stop for three days.

I stood in the courtyard. The stone was slick. My boots were heavy. I looked at the door. It was black oak. It was old.

Who are you?

I did not answer. I could not. My voice was gone. It had been stolen. Or perhaps I had just forgotten how to use it.

The gate guard was there. He was young. He was afraid. He held his spear tight. His knuckles were white.

You cannot pass, sir.

I looked at him. I saw his fear. I knew it. I had worn that fear once. It sat in my chest like a stone.

The commander is inside.

Yes.

He is waiting.

For whom?

For you.

I nodded. I moved forward. My steps were slow. The rain ran down my face. It felt cold. It felt like memory.

The door opened.

The room was dark. There was a single candle. It flickered. The shadow of the commander stretched long across the floor. He sat behind a desk. He was an old man. His face was carved.

You are late, Thomas.

I did not sit. I stood. I waited.

Sit down.

I sat. The chair was hard.

You have made a mistake.

I looked at my hands. They were steady.

I have not.

The commander leaned back. He studied me. His eyes were gray. They were like the sky before a storm.

You know what I think, Thomas?

I shook my head.

I think you are trying to save yourself.

I felt a chill. It was not from the cold. It was from the truth.

I am trying to serve.

No. You are trying to hide.

He picked up a letter. He held it out to me.

What is that?

It is your confession.

I stared at it. The paper was white. It was clean. There were no words on it.

It is blank.

Yes.

I looked at him.

Why?

Because you did not write it.

I felt the ground shift under me.

Who wrote it?

I did not.

Then who?

He smiled. It was a thin smile. It did not reach his eyes.

You did.

I stood up. I felt dizzy.

That is a lie.

Is it?

I thought of my son. Edward. He was seven years old. He was in the city. He was safe. Or so I thought.

I thought of the incident. The night of the storm. The fire. The screams.

I had been there. I had run. I had not helped. I had looked away.

Why did you run?

I did not run.

You ran.

I looked at the commander. I wanted to strike him. I wanted to break his face. But I did not move. My body was locked.

I had a duty.

Your duty was to your son.

I shook my head.

My duty was to the city.

Your son was in the city.

I closed my eyes. I saw the fire. I saw the smoke. I saw Edward’s face. He was crying. He was reaching for me. I had turned my back.

Why did you turn your back?

I do not know.

You know. You know why.

I opened my eyes. I looked at the commander.

I was afraid.

Yes.

I was afraid of failing.

Yes.

I was afraid of dying.

Yes.

The commander stood up. He walked to the window. He looked out at the rain.

We are all afraid, Thomas.

No.

Yes.

I am not afraid.

You are. You are the most afraid man I have ever known.

I felt a pain in my chest. It was sharp. It was bright.

What do you want from me?

I want the truth.

I have given it to you.

No. You have given me a story. I want the truth.

The truth is that I failed.

No. The truth is that you loved him.

I flinched.

And you let that love make you weak.

I looked at the floor. The wood was dark.

I am a soldier.

Yes.

And soldiers do not feel.

No. Soldiers feel more than anyone else.

I laughed. It was a dry sound.

You are wrong.

Am I?

I have killed men. I have broken bones. I have felt nothing.

That is what you think.

Yes.

The commander turned around. He walked toward me. He stopped in front of me.

Look at me.

I looked at him.

Do you see yourself?

I saw his face. I saw his gray eyes. I saw the lines on his face.

No.

Yes. You do.

I looked into his eyes. I saw something there. It was not malice. It was not anger. It was pity.

I felt sick.

What do you see?

I see a man who is afraid.

I am afraid.

You are afraid of being loved.

I shook my head.

I am afraid of being judged.

You are the judge.

I looked away.

The commander sat down. He picked up a small object from his desk. It was a watch. It was gold. It was old.

Do you know what this is?

I do not.

It belonged to your father.

My heart stopped.

I do not know what you mean.

Your father was a soldier. He was a good man. He was a bad man. He was both.

I remembered my father. He was gone. He was dead. He had died in a war. He had been brave. Or so the stories said.

What did he do?

He ran.

I stared at him.

He ran from his son.

No.

Yes. He did.

I felt the room spin.

My father was a hero.

Was he?

I do not know.

You do not know.

I looked at the watch. It was ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Why are you telling me this?

Because you are him.

No.

Yes. You are him. You are his son. You are his mirror.

I stood up. I pushed the chair back. It scraped against the floor.

I am not him.

You are.

I grabbed the watch. I held it in my hand. It was warm. It was heavy.

I threw it at him.

It hit his chest. It clattered on the floor. It rolled under the desk.

The commander did not move. He did not look at the watch. He looked at me.

You are angry.

I am not angry.

You are.

I took a step back.

I am leaving.

You cannot leave.

I looked at the door. It was open. The rain was still falling.

I am leaving.

The commander stood up. He moved quickly. He was fast for an old man.

He grabbed my arm.

He was strong.

I pulled away.

He did not let go.

I pushed him. He fell back. He hit the desk. Papers flew into the air.

I ran.

I ran to the door. I ran into the courtyard. The rain hit my face. It felt like needles.

I ran to the gate.

The guard was there. He was standing still. He did not move.

Let me go.

No.

I pushed him. He fell. I stepped over him.

I ran into the street.

The city was dark. The rain was heavy. The cobblestones were slippery.

I ran. I did not know where I was going. I just ran.

I ran until my legs gave out.

I fell in a gutter. The water was dirty. It smelled of rot.

I lay there. I looked up. The sky was black.

I thought of Edward.

Where is he?

I do not know.

I thought of the fire.

I had run.

I had run.

I had run.

I closed my eyes.

I heard a sound.

It was a cough.

It was a child’s cough.

I opened my eyes.

There was a figure in the alley.

It was small. It was huddled in the corner.

I stood up. My legs were shaking.

I walked toward the figure.

It was a boy.

It was Edward.

He was wet. He was cold. He was shaking.

Edward.

He looked at me. His eyes were wide. They were full of fear.

Father.

I fell to my knees. I took him in my arms.

He was light. He was so light.

I held him tight. I held him like I was holding water. I was afraid I would drop him.

I am here.

He was silent.

I am here.

He did not speak.

I sat on the wet ground. I held him. The rain ran down my back.

I did not know what to do.

I did not know how to fix it.

I did not know how to stop the pain.

I just held him.

The rain did not stop.

It did not stop for a long time.

I sat there. I held my son.

I felt the weight of him.

It was the heaviest thing I had ever held.

It was the lightest thing I had ever held.

I closed my eyes.

I listened to his breathing.

It was small. It was quick.

I listened to the rain.

It was loud. It was endless.

I was a soldier.

I had failed.

I was a father.

I had failed.

I was a man.

I was afraid.

I opened my eyes.

I looked at my son.

He was asleep.

I held him tighter.

I would not run.

I would not look away.

I would stay.

The rain fell.

The night was long.

But I was there.